 | Words by the Wayside |  |
108
Death of William Terriss
Pit, stalls, and gallery crowded; the whole HouseAblare with music and ablaze with light,
Teeming with expectation; a loud hum
Of hearts impatient for the curtain's rise
And that loved Actor, skilled in tragic show,
'Mid ear-enthralled, eye charmèd multitudes,
To 'scape the mimic dagger, or to die.
The curtain rose not, nor the Actor came:
For he was dead, their dear protagonist,
The gentle and the generous, and e'en now
Passing I know not to what awful stage
And solemn audience of the unseen world:
For as his groping fingers clutched the key
Of that familiar portal, in the dim
Death-ambushed entrance by a shadowy hand
From out the shadows stabbed and stabbed again,
He knew not fumbling with the door of heaven.
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